


It Had To Be Snow

by fredesrojo



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, February 2014, Jim/Maggie if you squint really hard, basically post S3, my polar is vortexing again, snow day fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredesrojo/pseuds/fredesrojo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow day (night) for the newsroom, complete with Grinch!Jim, married!McAvoys, and Maggie/Sloan/Jenna being snark queens.</p>
<p>~It’s cold enough to make their breath immediately fog up as soon as they step out of the lobby, but for the first time in almost 24 hours, the snow isn’t blowing directly into their faces--it’s drifting gently down, one of those Hollywood movie magic type shots where the city looks beautiful, and they all just stop a few steps outside the building, staring around at the snow covered city.~</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Had To Be Snow

**Author's Note:**

> basically, in sheer boredom over the past few days because NC doesn't have the infrastructure to deal with snow and thus the university was closed, I decided to write a snow day (or evening, whatever) for the newsroom, brought on mostly by the headcanon that Jim is a bit of a whiner when it comes to snow (::cough::everything::cough::)
> 
> also, married newsparents! fluff
> 
> and Maggie/Sloan/Mac being awesome at snowball fights

“I’m Will McAvoy, Terry Smith is coming up next with the Capitol Report. Thanks for watching us, and good night.”

 

“Good show, guys. Go ahead and get everything shut down, Charlie said for everyone to get out while the snow’s died down a bit.” Mac instructs the control room quietly, unwinding her headset and pulling the receiver pack off of her hip. “If it doesn’t absolutely need doing, it can wait until after the weekend.”

 

It’s 9:00 on a Friday with most of the upper Eastern Seaboard caught in the blizzard that drifted in early Thursday afternoon and covered New York and most of the states north of DC in a good foot and a half of snowfall and biting winds. (In other words, typical mid to late February weather, at least if one lives north of the Mason-Dixon line. Half of the news outlets are calling it a resurgence of the infamous Polar Vortex, but the wind chill and temperature readings haven't been dipping nearly low enough.)

 

“Alright everyone, clear out, and wait until you hear from us or Charlie about coming in on Monday,” She announces to the newsroom at large, assembled in coats and scarves--Will is still changing out from wardrobe and there’s a few staffers logging out of their stations, but most of the newsroom is ready to head home.

 

She turns to Don, propped up against a desk still in street clothes. “Charlie said to tell you guys _Right Now_ is cancelled for tonight. He wants you guys to get home while the snow’s mostly stopped--who knows how the weather’s going to look in two hours.”

 

“Sweet.” Don tries (and fails) to look unexcited by that news, grabbing his coat and sidling a bit closer to Sloan’s side. “So...we just wait and see how the weather looks Monday?”

 

“Pretty much.” She claps her hands and waves at them all, smiling. “Go on, get out of here.” She’s gathered her coat and bag when Will finally appears at the door to her office, wrapped up in his own black peacoat.

 

“Ready?”

 

“Yeah, I just…” Mac spins in a circle, frowning. “I can’t find my scarf.”

 

“Didn’t you leave it with your coat when we came in this morning?”

 

“I thought I did, but now I can’t…Ugh!” She spins again, and then her gaze alights on the forest green New York Jets scarf draped around Will’s neck. She shifts closer to him, tracing her fingers lightly over the woven yarn, teeth clamped firmly on her lower lip as she glances up. “Can I borrow yours?”

 

“It’s 20 degrees outside!”

 

“You can turn up your coat collar.” Mac slowly slides the scarf off of his shoulders, winding it comfortably around her own neck. “Thanks, honey.” She cranes up on her toes to kiss his cheek, biting back a grin.

 

Will rolls his eyes and hooks an arm around her waist, tugging her out of the office and towards the elevators. “Come on then, Dulcinea.”

 

She wrinkles her nose and pinches his side in retaliation, smirking at the yelp it elicits as they round the corner to the elevators, where Jim, Sloan, and most of the assorted staffers are gathered waiting for an available elevator.

 

Gary, tugging a bright blue and red Giants beanie down over his ears, double-takes at the scarf around her neck. “You’re a Jets fan?”

 

She smirks, leans a bit more into Will’s side. “Will is.”

 

“Oooh. Ouch.” He winces theatrically and pats Will’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man.”

 

Will frowns. (The Jets _really_ didn’t have a good season this year. Or for the past couple of years. Or really ever, that she can remember. Whatever.) “Can we just not talk about it?”

 

It’s cold enough to make their breath immediately fog up as soon as they step out of the lobby, but for the first time in almost 24 hours, the snow isn’t blowing directly into their faces--it’s drifting gently down, one of those Hollywood movie magic type shots where the city looks _beautiful_ , and they all just stop a few steps outside the building, staring around at the snow covered city.

 

“Wow,” Tess breathes faintly, not even muffled by the scarf wrapped around her face. “This is…”

 

“Going to be a bitch to slog through,” Jim grumps from just behind Will’s shoulder, glaring disconsolately at his already snow covered shoes.

 

“Shush,” Maggie chides. “It’s beautiful.”

 

Will’s chest rumbles briefly next to her in a hidden chuckle, his eyes twinkling a bit as he meets her gaze. “You wanna walk for a bit?” He murmurs quietly, glancing ahead at the snow covered streets, empty but for a few lonely cars and the occasional taxi.

 

“Yeah.” She glances over to the staffers, mostly embroiled in a debate with Jim over whether the snow is ‘pretty’ or not. “Hey, you guys want to take a walk in the park?” (It’s a bit silly, but she’s kind of loathe to leave this happy, warm feeling, their collected news family together and teasing each other, having fun.)

 

Tess immediately brightens at the suggestion. “Yeah!”

 

“My apartment is the other way,” Jim says, shifting on his heels. “It’s kind of late, really.”

 

“Oh, lighten up, Jimmy Olsen.” Don claps a hand against his back cheerfully, already following Sloan’s tugging towards the street corner. “It’ll be fun. Live a little. It’s not like we wouldn’t be sitting in Hang Chews eating tuna jerky otherwise.”

 

“I’m in,” Maggie proclaims decisively, gloved hands hooked in the pockets of her jeans as she eyes him challengingly. “Can’t handle the cold, J. Edgar?”

 

“You know, none of those are actually my name,” Jim starts to protest, but Mac is more distracted by Will releasing the arm he has around her waist and moving towards the newspaper box at the edge of the curb--and she knows what he’s going to do before he even gets a handful of snow in his gloves, carefully packing it.

 

_Paff._ The snowball thuds into the back of Jim’s head, breaking magnificently to leave a dusting of fine white powder in his hair and down the back of his neck.

 

“Hey!”

 

Will smirks, dusting his gloves off. “Live a little, Scooter.”

 

“You attacked me unprovoked!” Jim squawks, arms flailing. “No warning, no--no war was declared--we were taking a walk!”

 

His shouts draw the staffers back, ringed in a loose circle just before the corner.

 

“I call Will,” Maggie says, diving over to grab his elbow immediately.

 

“Mac,” Sloan claims, shifting away from Don with an apologetic look.

 

He shrugs, and then shuffles over to join Elliot, still lingering at the back of their little group. “I’m cool, 10 o’clock can hang together, right man?”

 

“Tess,” shouts Tamara, already linking arms with the willowy  blonde.

 

Neal and Kendra pair off next, by virtue of standing directly next to each other.

 

Jim is still spinning around in the middle of their ringed teams, outraged. “You can’t just--” He stutters, hands falling a bit limply as Martin and Gary team up. “Who’s...I don’t have a team.” Then, as he eyes up the pairings, “That’s not fair, Will and Maggie can’t be on the same team!”

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“They’re--they’re both from the Midwest! That’s like--you’re stacking the deck!” He looks around a bit desperately. “Who’s going to--I need a partner!”

 

“Jenna doesn’t have a partner yet,” Tamara finally points out, nudging the newly minted desk producer out from behind them. “We were gonna let her be on our team, but if Jim needs a partner…”

 

“Why do I get stuck with him?” Jenna immediately protests, frowning.

 

“Hey, I’m--what?”

 

Will snorts. “Just have him make snowballs, you can throw.”

 

“Why does she get to be the thrower?”

 

“She played softball from junior high up through college,” He explains, as if Jim were being particularly dense.

 

“I...how do you even...so what?”

 

“I know because I care,” Will proclaims, looking particularly proud of himself.

 

“Oh brother,” Mac groans. “Not this again.”

 

Maggie snorts. “You thought my name was _Ellen_ for a year and a half.”

 

“That’s…” His proud look falters a bit. “Well, I--look, I got better at it, okay?”

 

“Sure, whatever.”

 

“I still don’t see how I got stuck as the odd man out,” Jim whines.

 

“You didn’t, you’re with Jenna, and everyone else has a partner.” Mac says, nodding towards the corner. “Now aren’t we meant to be heading for the park? It’s going to be a bit hard to have a proper snowball fight if we’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk.”

 

“I still don’t see why I have to be partners with _him_ ,” Jenna mutters.

 

“Charity case,” Will chuckles, patting her shoulder lightly as he and Maggie start up the sidewalk to the corner. “You’ll do fine without him.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Will, stop antagonizing him.”

 

“Yes, dear,” He rolls his eyes.

 

“It’s still not fair that Will and Maggie are on the same team. They practically grew up in this stuff.”

 

Mac laughs, jerking her head to where Don and Elliot are walking a bit ahead of the crowd, heads bent low in obvious scheming. “If we’re going by that argument, Don and Elliot shouldn’t be paired either. Don’s from New Jersey, and Elliot is--”

 

“Entirely too tall for a normal human being?” Sloan contributes helpfully, breath fogging in front of them.

 

“Well, yes. That too. But I was going to say he’s from upstate New York, actually.”

 

Bryant Park is empty, a clean expanse of white snow stretching from the gates to where it backs up against the New York Public Library, and they all stand in a loose ring just inside the entrance.

 

Jenna disgruntledly moves to stand next to Jim, folding her arms across her chest. “So how are we doing this? Last team standing, I assume?”

 

“Yeah,” Maggie agrees, straightening her knit cap to fit more snugly over her ears. “Hits to the torso count.”

 

“Headshots?”

 

“Might as well.” Kendra muses, glancing around. “You can use anything for cover, but no going behind the Library. Or, well, in front of it.”

 

“Yeah, stay in the park. Last thing we need is someone slipping and busting their ass on concrete.”

 

Mac snorts. “No offense, Will, but you’re most likely to do that, aside from Jim.”

 

“My knee is fine,” He scowls, rubbing his leg a bit. “Anything else?”

 

“Once both members of your team have been hit, you’re out. If your teammate has been hit, they can only supply snowballs, not throw them,” Sloan says seriously, glancing at her watch. “And everyone has sixty seconds to spread out, once we’re done with questions. We good?”

 

“Hits to the torso and head, nothing below the belt, you can have a base but no using the Library, and once both of you are hit, you’re out.” Don summarizes, already edging with Elliot towards the outer fringe of the group. “Everyone ready?” After a chorus of nods, he glances down at his watch. “On your mark, get set, go!”

 

The whole group immediately scatters, footsteps crunching in the snowfall as they all move to find a suitable home base.

 

Mac follows Sloan around the edge of the empty skating rink in the middle of the park, her gaze darting around to see Will and Maggie disappear off to their right and Don and Elliot slide behind a series of chess tables slightly in front of them. Sloan veers over and chooses a small stand of trees near the carousel, crouching behind the entrance kiosk to the ride. “We can start here and get some snowballs together and then move around the park. People are gonna want to set up bases, but there’s not a lot of time.”

 

“Lure them out and then get them from behind?”

 

“If we can.” Sloan packs snowballs as she speaks, gathering a tiny bit of the more icy snow from off of the kiosk for the center of each snowball.

 

Pretty soon they have a fair amount put together, just in time as it seems, because footfalls slowly crunch through the snow on the other side of the carousel. Mac shifts to peer around the kiosk, catching sight of the bright red yarn bobble from the top of Gary’s hat before it disappears behind one of the molded horses. “They’re coming around.”

 

“I’ll distract, you get them,” Sloan mutters, gathering an armful of snowballs and crawling closer to the carousel.

 

There’s a brief shuffle in the snow to her left, and then Martin creeps out, one arm loaded up with snowballs held against his chest. He doesn’t see her until it’s too late, yelping as her first snowball catches his shoulder and then the second thuds squarely into his chest.

 

“Gary!”  

 

“Now, Kenzie!” Sloan dives out from behind the carousel horses, drawing Gary’s attention from Martin’s shout to her. Mac lines up an easy throw that knocks the beanie off of his head, grinning when he groans loudly.

 

“Aw, man!”

 

“Better luck next time, Cooper.” She says, patting his back lightly.

 

“Come on, Kenzie, we’ve got to move. I’m sure people heard that.” Sloan loads her arms up with more ammunition, glancing around cautiously.

 

A scream (well, more of a yell, really) draws their attention across the park, where Kendra and Neal are standing over Don, flat out on his back on the ground.  

 

“Ooooh, bad luck,” Sloan mutters, following her as she cuts through the trees in front of them.

 

“He’s _your_ boyfriend,” Mac replies, gaze darting all over in front of them. This area of the park seems awfully clear for… _“Duck!_ ”

 

Jenna’s snowball sails through the space where Sloan used to be, followed immediately by a more lobbed throw (clearly Jim, as it lands about ten feet in front of where they were). She sees a flash of fabric disappear behind one of the trees in front of them, cautiously motioning to Sloan to move around to her left.

 

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Jim suddenly dives out towards her, inexplicably empty handed, and Mac nails him in the forehead without even thinking. “Dammit, Mac!”

 

She rolls her eyes and ducks behind him as another series of snowballs come whistling through the trees, obviously Jenna’s line of attack.

 

“Hey, you can’t use me as a human shield!” He protests, trying to wriggle free of her grip.

 

“Never specified in the rules,” Mac grins, slips behind the next tree. “Bye, Jim.”

 

Sloan shouts triumphantly and appears out of the trees, followed by a morose looking Jenna. “Hah, I am _awesome_.”

 

“You could gloat a little less, I basically had to carry my own team,” Jenna grumbles, dusting two distinct rings of snow off of her coat.

 

“I heard that!” Jim shouts, running a hand through his hair to clear the snow out of it as he wanders out of the trees.

 

“Well, you were useless,” She mutters, still bickering with Jim as they trek back across the park to the entrance.

 

“They’re so cute, how old are they again?” Sloan crouches next to a tree to gather and pack more snowballs, glancing up as she works. “Who’s left?”

 

“Well, if Elliot survived Kendra and Neal’s attack, then him. I haven’t heard anything from Tess and Tamara, or Will and Maggie.”

 

“Will’s smart. They’ll hang back until most of us eliminate each other.”

 

“Mhmmm,” Mac muses, looking all around. “I thought I saw Tess and Tamara run to the other end of the park from where we were.”

 

Sloan’s head snaps up, and she smirks a bit, nodding behind Mac. “Or, we follow the yellow brick road.” There’s two sets of distinct footprints through the snow, leading towards the corner of the park. “I bet someone thought it was a good idea to set up in a corner and make everyone come at them.”

 

“Well I’m not going to get ambushed,” She says, gathering a set of snowballs carefully.

 

“I’m not saying we should. I’m saying we should make a lot of noise following the tracks to lure everyone else over here.”

 

“...And then we can pick them off in the trees.”

 

“And hopefully whoever’s hiding in the corner gets drawn out.”

 

Mac has a sneaking suspicion that the team in the corner is actually Will and Maggie, but she shrugs in agreement. “So. How to we want to lure them?”

 

“Head for the center, and then split up in a pincer movement. That way we’re far enough apart that we won’t get trapped together.” Sloan grins. “And, we make a lot of noise.”

 

Their elaborately constructed plan really falls into place quite perfectly--for one, Elliot is sitting on the low wall near the entrance they’d come in with a dejected looking Don, meaning that they only have Kendra and Neal and Tess and Tamara to worry about.

 

(And Will and Maggie, but now is not the time to worry about that.)

 

Kendra wanders past the monument Mac is sheltering behind, taken out with two easy snowballs to the back. Neal nearly gets her, but Sloan is still close enough to come in with the save, grinning a bit triumphantly.

 

A squeal draws their attention back to the corner of the park--Tamara, running full tilt, snowball in each hand towards the skating rink. Sloan grabs her around the shoulders and shoves her down behind the monument, gesturing frantically for Kendra and Neal to clear the area. Through the trees, Will and then Maggie appear, splitting up as they hit the more open area in the center of the park.

 

“Come on, Kenzie, we have to move!” Sloan darts after them into the trees around the area where Maggie disappeared, but Mac follows along more slowly. She still can’t quite shake the feeling that they’re missing something crucial.

 

(Will and Maggie have presumably been playing the entire game together. Why would they split up now?)

 

The open area between the fountain and the ice rink is empty when Mac broke the cover of the trees, looking all around. Where was Sloan?

 

More importantly, where had Will, Tamara, and Maggie disappeared to?

 

The flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye gives her enough warning to throw a wild sidearm, whiffing just past Tamara’s shoulder. She dives for cover, throwing two more snowballs as she ducked down.

 

“Dammit!”

 

Tamara groans loudly and drops her snowballs, shaking her head. “I almost had you!”

 

“Sssh!” Mac whispers desperately, still looking all around. (Christ, they never should have started this. Will could be quite sneaky, when the mood took him. And where the fuck was Sloan?) “Did you see where Will went?”

 

“He was chasing me but I doubled back, so I thought I lost him, and then I saw you.” Tamara shrugs. “Well, best of luck.”

 

“...Thanks.” Mac looks around frantically again, searching desperately for Sloan. Why did they think splitting up was a good idea again?

 

Cautiously, she creeps out from her cover near the edge of the fountain, gripping the last snowball from her stash in her hand. “Sloan?” She can only chance a whisper-shout, for fear Will or Maggie will hear. “Sloan!”

 

_Shit._

 

“Sloan!” (Dammit, they never should have split up.)

 

She stands cautiously, moving along the side of the ice rink as fast as she can. “Sloan, where are you?”

 

(Shit. There’s a whole open swath of presumably grass, if it weren’t buried under a foot or so of snow, and she’s got to get across it. _Where the hell is Sloan?_ )

 

Mac glances around one last time, eyeing the short little building thing near the edge of the park where it juts up against the Library. If she can just get there, maybe she can figure out where Will and Maggie are.

 

She’s got to run for it, there’s no other option. With a cursory glance around, Mac springs up from her crouch and throws herself forward, sprinting for the little building.

 

“Mac!” Sloan’s shout draws her part-way across, and _dammit_ , she’s on the other side of the clearing.

 

(She’s going to give them away!)

 

“Mac, _look out!”_   The warning comes too late--she gets a half turn, starting to pivot on one foot, and Will slams into her, inverting their bodies in midair so her fall is cushioned by his body.

 

Twenty yards away, Sloan starts out from the corner of the building, three snowballs tucked in against her torso, when a flicker of movement on the _other side of the structure_ draws Mac’s attention.

 

“Sloan, _no!”_

 

Maggie pops up from her hiding place, winging off two perfect snowballs that thud against Sloan’s side, and the game is over.

 

“Dammit!”

 

Will grins from beneath her, cheeks flushed with the cold and blue eyes twinkling. “Gotcha.”

 

“You absolutely did not!”

 

Then, against her back, his hand moves, and there’s a quiet _crunch_ sound. Even through her coat, she knows he’s just crushed a snowball against her back.

 

Mac gasps.

 

“William. Duncan. _McAvoy._ ” She wriggles out of his grip and flops over in the snow on her back, moaning in disbelief. “You did _not!”_

 

Will props himself up on one elbow to lean over her, utterly pleased. “I did.”

 

It vaguely registers that she’s still laying in the snow with legs half-tangled in Will’s, and all of the losing teams are trekking over from the park entrance, and Sloan is moaning exasperatedly about how brilliantly they just got played, but most of her focus is still on Will, jacket and jeans and hat dusted all over with snow, shit-eating grin on his face.

 

“You... _ugh_.” (Damn it all to hell, she got completely and utterly _played_.) Mac squints up at him. “How long were you following me?”

 

“Once you got about halfway down the ice rink, and I could hear you calling for Sloan.”

 

“I _knew_ we shouldn’t have split up in the end.” She moans, glaring up at the night sky. Then something, a thought, finally clicks in the back of her mind. “But hang on--you _tackled_ me!”

 

“Gently,” He specifies, still grinning. “I tackled you gently. And I even made sure you fell on top of me.”

 

“That’s not the--you _cheated!”_ Mac sputters, vaguely cognizant of the group gathered around them but mostly focused on Will, still grinning at her like an idiot. “I can’t believe--you _cheated!_ I call foul!” She’s about to rant on further, about how he completely and utterly abused the rules to win, when Will flips himself over and covers her mouth with his.

 

She loses herself in the kiss for a minute--he’s warm, and he’s still smiling even as his lips move against hers, and he’s propped himself up on one arm in the snow to cradle the back of her head with the other, and he... _cheats, he’s a cheat!_

 

Mac pulls back from the kiss with some difficulty, glaring weakly. “You’re...that’s no fair.”

 

Will grins, eyes crinkled at the corners, and even months gone from the wedding-- _God_ , she loves him, she’s actually _married_ to this idiot. “I got you out, didn’t I?”

 

(Well, fuck it. It is only a game.)

 

“Shut it.” And she grips the front of his coat, pulling him down again so their lips meet, her free hand knocking the plain black hat from his head to tangle in his hair.

 

(This, of course, is much preferable to dealing with Jim’s continued arguments that he should have been allowed to choose his own partner, but she doesn’t really care about all of that. Just the here and now, with Will, and they’re _happy._ )

 

Dimly, Jim’s voice breaks the happy fog of _Will_ clouding her senses, “Okay I understand that you guys are married and we’re just kind of resigned to seeing the couple-y stuff around the newsroom but could you perhaps include a little less tongue?”

 

“Aren’t children supposed to feel secure in watching their parents showing each other affection?” Don snarks, somewhere above their heads--and no, she absolutely cannot be shamed into pulling away from Will right now, Jim can deal.

 

“I’m fine with them showing affection, I could do without the excessive amounts of _tongue_ involved!”

 

Will grunts a short laugh into her mouth, shifting enough in the kiss that Mac almost thinks he’s pulling away but he just moves the hand cradling the back of her head--his right hand, his _throwing_ hand. He scrapes together a handful of snow out of the corner of her eye, shifts just enough to lever more weight on his left arm without drawing away from her and throws.

 

Through the collective laughter from the group as Jim sputters (he must have gotten a faceful of snow from Will’s throw), Will wraps his arms back around her and then rolls them, dragging her body on top of his. The movement breaks their kiss in the process, drawing a quiet whine that she mostly muffles by dipping her head into the crook of Will’s neck, but his gentle hand at her chin draws her eyes back up to his.

 

Will grins widely, eyes crinkled at the corners and hair irreparably mussed by both her hands tangling through it and the static from losing his hat--she can feel him laughing quietly, a low rumble through his chest.

 

In the background Mac can hear Maggie and Sloan as they goodnaturedly cajole everyone to leave them alone, Jim’s indignant protests periodically rising over the din of laughter receding away from them, leaving them wrapped up in each other in the snow.

 

He smirks slightly, eyes dancing in the low light of the park. “What’s mine is yours?”  He questions quietly, the subvocal rumble of his chuckles adding a lilt to the end of his words. “My win counts as your win.”

 

“I _own_ you, it should be my win out-right, you sneak.”

 

“50-50.” His eyebrows waggle a bit, cajoling. “I did catch you, and I got you with a snowball.”

 

_“After_ you tackled me,”  Mac grumbles, propping herself up higher on his chest to ease the awkward angle her neck is at. “70-30. Because you technically cheated.”

 

“60-40 and I’ll make hot cocoa when we get home,” Will bargains, warm hands running up and down her back.

 

Oh, _fine_. Mac sighs, dipping to kiss him briefly. “60-40. But I want the real kind with milk, not that microwaved crap. And marshmallows.”

 

“Deal.” Will, it seems, is perfectly content to lay there in the snow for the moment, but a shout from the edge of the park finally draws their attention from one another.

 

“Hey, lovebirds!” Sloan, arm linked through Don’s, hovers a few yards away from the park entrance, smirking. “Unless you want to get caught in the next round of snow coming, you might want to quit fooling around with each other in the snow.”

 

Mac waves her off, sighing a bit. “I guess we should probably leave.”

 

“If you want your hot cocoa anytime soon, yeah.” Will helps her to her feet and then slowly rises himself, shaking off his snow-covered hat. He winds an arm around her waist as soon as they’re both mostly presentable, hugging her close to his side. “Home?”

 

“Home.”

 

Halfway across the park, he finally speaks again. “So...We’re definitely not getting out of bed all weekend, right?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> (in editing this I realized that I somehow made Mac and Sloan basically snow warriors bc they took out all of the teams except for Don and Elliot and Will and Maggie, whoops)
> 
> also, this is roughly 1.62% Emily's fault, because she wanted Will and Mac kissing in the snow, so...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
